Week One: small pleasures

I'm on board with the M.O.M. (Month of Me) coming from a newly discovered blogger. Here is my week of celebrations, in summary:

Sunday: Gardening. Picking out seed packets, lining them up. Plans for: morning glories, poppies. Trying my hand at flowers, returning to vegetables, flesh damp, smooth and slick skin. Tilling by hand, K's blister rising, standing next to him, beating and tamping the earth.

Monday: Musical meeting, then the first day without rehearsal in a long while (I have begun to feel I live there now, in that auditorium, there is nothing else but this). I go home and read and fall asleep at 8:20. An entire hour of reading on a school night.

Tuesday: A beer at home. I drink rarely now, only on special occassions. Not even for the bachelorette party, and a little for the wedding. I think I needed to celebrate: three poetry submissions in one week, another almost-on-time submission to my poet-friend, and most importantly: getting the two applications finished for the local school openings. A little bit of hope in the mailbox and relief. My observation went well, too, I think.

Wednesday: A day home to rest. Sleeping so much I cannot fall asleep at a remotely decent time that night, but still relishing the slumbering between cotton sheets. Delicious as the sun has risen, dogs waiting patiently for me to join them. Allowing myself to be enveloped in the dreams. Recovering. An afternoon putting together a care package for a dear friend, ready to post, full of summer goodies, paper gifts, and love. A bucket of fried chicken on the patio, dogs at our feet. K asking me to drive and being happy at small favors. Buying two new CDs (Feist and Tori Amos). Dancing around in the car.

Thursday: Teaching in costume to promote the musical. A fridge full of Vitamin water. Taking photographs. Always a driving pleasure. Students running to the printer to collect poetry, still warm, written for in class workshop.

Friday: The anticipation of flight. The shocking luxury of a hotel in Boston: Crabtree and Evelyn, brushed steel, the tink of wine glasses, deep red wood, pillows to sink in to, fresh flowers in the lobby. Adding another state to our list. The thrill and self indulgence of travel.

Saturday: Three glasses of wine: one at dinner, two at the end of the night. Walking streets earning the title "cobblestone." Holding a baby, my soon-to-be nephew, K's sister's son, the warmth and giggle of a fistful of hair. Noticing things: violets in bloom, pigeons cooing, exposed brick, statues depicting famous Bostonians. Pubs, so many of them, with the lacquered wood and soft lighting. Pubs, all Irish, with corned beef and clam chowder. I am in heaven here. K's mother already knew it before I said it--I would want to stay here. But K hates the big city, and this one has transportation issues. I will settle for our home; after all, it is a little paradise too. A wedding, complete with frothy cake and vegetables on the side of dinner that melted in my mouth. K's aunt, stunning, watching her daughter marry the man of her dreams. A beautiful bride, a lovely ceremony, sitting in the pew with the family and not flubbing (much). The sun out and me away from the hum-drum of this daily life, if only for a while.